


An Angelic Heat Lamp

by i_require_validation



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Cold-Blooded Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley cries, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Delirious Crowley, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:13:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23611351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_require_validation/pseuds/i_require_validation
Summary: “Sssoft, angel,” Crowley slurred into Aziraphale’s neck, “Warm.” Crowley sighed happily. Aziraphale lay motionless, heart pounding in his ears. A ice cold hand slipped over his heart, and Aziraphale absentmindedly covered it with his own. Crowley nuzzled his neck.Crowley was clearly delirious from the cold, Aziraphale reminded himself as the demon let out another contented sigh. This wasn’t real. Crowley snuggled closer. Not real…Aziraphale thinks nothing of the freezing weather outside until he finds Crowley shivering and incoherent. The demon clings to him for warmth, and Aziraphale figures that it couldn't hurt to let the demon cuddle him for warmth until he gets better... right? Never mind that this is a dream come true, Crowley needs him!Miscommunication, crying, and love confessions ensue.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 212





	An Angelic Heat Lamp

A cold front had swept through London, though Aziriphale had not thought much of it. He still spent his days in the same fashion as before the cold, reading a good book and sipping on a steaming cup of cocoa. 

The only thing bothering Aziriphale was the absence of Crowley. Since the failed apocalypse, Crowley would often be found swaggering into Aziraphale’s bookshop to keep him company. Draping himself over the couch while tapping at something on his phone, or accompanying the angel to the opening night of a new Italian restaurant. 

Aziraphale figured that the demon had a right to spend his time as he pleased, but he did wish that more was spent _here._

After one day of no appearance from Crowley, Aziraphale began to fret. Had he said something wrong at dinner the previous night? Did Crowley finally decide that he wanted better company than a chubby, bookish angel? 

At dinner that night, which he attended alone, Aziraphale reminded himself that he had gone more than a century before without talking to the demon, and he had been fine then, so he would be fine now. 

_But, that was before you realized you were in love with him…_ An unhelpful voice in the back of his mind reminded him, and he dejectedly glanced at the empty chair across from him. 

Could he not _call,_ at least? Let Aziraphale know he was okay? 

Aziraphale realized he was becoming irritable by the second day, when he snapped at a particularly determined customer who was insistent on taking home a first edition of a Dickinson. 

After a second day passed, Aziraphale tried to busy himself. He had spent years, centuries, without the demon’s company, he could surely go another day. 

Aziraphale wasn’t so desperate for company that he would call Crowley after merely a few days. He wasn’t that lonely. He had other things to do, besides converse with the demon. 

Aziraphale rang Crowley by lunchtime on the third day.

Crowley didn’t pick up. 

The familiar recorded message played in his ear, but he hangs up before leaving a message. The audacity of the demon to ignore his call! Aziraphale paced along the bookshelves, anxiously twisting the ring on his pinkie finger. 

Crowley could be in trouble. He could also be playing a game on his mobile. But what if he was in trouble?

“Oh bloody hell, just _go_ ,” he chides himself. He flips the store sign to ‘closed,’ donned his thicker winter coat, and left for Crowley’s. 

When he made it into Crowley’s building, he found that the inside was just as cold as the outside. There was a paper sign in the elevator apologizing for the inconvenience of the malfunction heater, promising to fix it as soon as possible. The memo was dated 2 days ago, and Aziraphale had a sinking feeling.

He rushed from the elevator to the door leading to Crowley’s flat, snapping to miracle the door open. 

The flat was even more cold. Aziraphale could feel his toes becoming numb from the freezing floor. “Crowley?” He called into the dark flat. His breath fogged slightly in the air. He made his way through the empty living room, spared a glance at the kitchen to determine that it, too, was empty. 

Finally, Aziraphale found himself at the bedroom door. “Crowley?” He called again, still getting no response. He pushed the door open, the light from the hallway revealing a pile of shivering blankets in the middle of the queen-sized bed. 

Aziraphale made his way over to the bed, lifting the bottom blanket to peer underneath. Crowley was curled up in a ball underneath, shivering violently. Aziraphale was flooded with relief at knowing Crowley was still alive. A guiltier part of him was also relieved at the fact that the weather had been what was keeping Crowley away from him, and not his company that repelled the demon. 

Worry resurfaced, however, as the angel noticed the blue tint to the demon’s skin, and the violent shivering despite quite a few heavy blankets being piled on top of him. “Crowley? Are you awake?” He asked, but Crowley showed no signs of hearing him. 

Aziraphale reached out, laying a warm hand across the demon’s forehead. He almost recoiled, as Crowley’s skin felt like ice. It finally dawned on him that Crowley must be cold blooded. Strange, Crowley had never thought to mention it before.

Crowley pressed into his hand, letting out a small whimper. Aziraphale recalled reading a biology book on cold-blooded reptiles- he had gotten it to research more into snakes (for no particular reason, of course) but had read the entire book, as he never left a book only partially read. The book had explained how cold blooded animals needed to be provided with warmth, as they could not produce their own body heat. Crowley, clearly, was no different. 

“Crowley, we need to get you warm.” Aziraphale moves his hand to cup Crowley’s cheek. Crowley nuzzles into his palm, slender fingers reaching up to wrap around Aziraphale’s wrist. He suppresses a smile and his heart swells. “Dear,” He coaxes, sliding onto the bed to reach Crowley better. He kneeled next to him, the bed dipping as he climbed on. 

“Angel?” The demon slurred, his golden eyes fluttering. 

“Yes, it’s me Crowley. We need to get you out of here, get you somewhere warm.” Crowley sluggishly propped himself up. 

“Angel is warm,” He mumbled, one thin arm coming out to wrap around one of Aziraphale’s thighs. Aziraphale didn’t know what to do. He had never seen Crowley in such a state. The demon was still shivering terribly. 

“Crowley, dear-” He yelped as Crowley pulled him down. After a few moments of confusion, and a tangle of limbs, Aziraphale found himself on his back with Crowley tucked along his side. “Dear?” He asked, as Crowley locked a spindly, freezing, leg around one of his. 

“Sssoft, angel,” Crowley slurred into Aziraphale’s neck, “ _Warm.”_ Crowley sighed happily. Aziraphale lay motionless, heart pounding in his ears. A ice cold hand slipped over his heart, and Aziraphale absentmindedly covered it with his own. Crowley nuzzled his neck. 

Crowley was clearly delirious from the cold, Aziraphale reminded himself as the demon let out another contented sigh. This wasn’t real. Crowley snuggled closer. _Not real…_

It wouldn’t hurt to warm him up a bit more, before trying to move him to the bookshop. Aziraphale pressed a kiss to the demon’s forehead, inhaling his intoxicating scent. Slowly, the demon’s shivering became less violent. 

“Crowley?” He questioned, but he remained non-responsive. “Crowley, I am going to move us to the bookshop, alright?” Still no response. Aziraphale shifted on the bed, gently coaxing Crowley’s leg off of his own. He pulled away slightly, sliding one leg off the edge of the mattress. 

Crowley _whimpered,_ a sound that shot straight through Aziraphale’s chest. “I know you’re cold, dearest, but we do need to get you out of here.” He soothed, pulling Crowley with him off of the bed. 

Soon, he was standing, with a delirious demon clinging desperately to his side and trembling with cold. Crowley’s sunglasses on the bedside table. Aziraphale decided to pocket them, not knowing how long it would take for the flat to become warm enough for Crowley to return. 

He closed his eyes and concentrated, and the pair were standing among the cozy couches of his shop’s seating area. 

“Let’s get you comfortable, the book suggested heated lamps - I’ll miracle you some and a nice blanket -” He tried to put Crowley down on the couch, but the demon clung to him desperately, hissing when Aziraphale tried to unclasp his hands. He tried not to find that as terribly adorable as it was, and failed. 

“Alright, dear, just let me take off my coat.” Aziraphale slipped off his coat, making sure he grabbed Crowley’s sunglasses from the pocket first. 

He slumped into a particularly cushy armchair, Crowley still curled around him. The temperature in the bookshop was much more pleasant than the dark cold of Crowley’s flat. Crowley buries his face in Aziraphale’s neck once again, looping his arms around his shoulders. 

“Sss warm,” he mutters, and Aziraphale chuckles.

“Yes, dear, isn’t this better?” 

Crowley just shuffles into a more comfortable position in his lap, nuzzling closer. Aziraphale carefully places the sunglasses on the side table in exchange for a book. 

He tried to focus on the book, rather than think of how _nice_ this was. Crowley, snuggled against him, snoring softly into his neck. _I am only doing this to help him…_ He lied to himself. He felt a pang of guilt for the warmth that flooded his heart whenever he felt Crowley’s forked tough dart out to smell him. 

Was this selfish? Was he taking advantage of the situation at hand to cuddle with the demon? Aziraphale put the book aside, accepting that he couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the slowly warming hand gripping at his coat. 

Aziraphale rests his hand on one of the demon’s bony knees, his other hand winding around to rub Crowley’s back.

Suddenly, he felt Crowley stiffen in his arms. ‘ _Oh, he must finally be waking up…’_ Aziraphale thought lazily, tracing his fingers through Crowley’s hair. 

Suddenly, Crowley was scrambling off of him. He stumbled away from Aziraphale, eyes wide and ears flushed. Before he could react, Crowley had snatched his sunglasses from the side table and shoved them back on. 

Aziraphale stood, smoothing down his rumpled coat. He was starting to feel uneasy at Crowley’s reaction to waking up in his lap. 

“What-” Crowley croaked, then cleared his voice, “W-what happened?” He finally forced the words out, and Aziraphale wished he hadn't covered his eyes so quickly.

He blinked, silence stretching for a moment as he considered his response. “The cold front swept in, and I suppose that your flat’s central heating failed.” Crowley flinched. “I stopped by to check on you since you had missed my calls, and hadn’t visited in a while. I found you delirious from the cold there.”

“Sso, why-” Crowley said, flustered, his face reddening more, and he gestured to the plush armchair the two had inhabited only a few moments prior. Aziraphale’s heart sank. Was it that unbearable to be held by him?

“According to some helpful books I’ve inquired, cold-blooded creatures-” Crowley flinched again, but Aziraphale didn’t notice, “-need warmth provided to them in colder climates such as London.” Crowley was silent, and Aziraphale continued rambling. “The book suggested supplying bodily warmth, heat lamps, heated blankets-” 

“Why didn’t you ssselect another way to _warm_ me,” Crowley hissed, his forked tongue darting out. His shoulders trembled. _Why is he angry?_

“Well, you seemed quite insistent on clinging to me,” Aziraphale snapped. Crowley stilled. _Fuck._

Crowley hunched his shoulders, “Well then, sssorry.” He muttered, and the angel wanted so badly to make the demon understand. To kiss him, and look into his eyes, to bask in knowing the demon trusted him. 

Aziraphale moved forward, reaching out to gently put his hands on Crowley’s shoulders. The demon tensed at his touch. 

“Dear, I was only doing what I thought was best,” Crowley looked away from his imploring gaze. “You’re my _friend,_ I would do anything to ensure your well being,” Crowley didn’t respond, his eyes concealed behind tinted glass. “It really was nothing,” Aziraphale added, and he could hear Crowley’s breath catch. 

How could he have been so foolish? Of course Crowley would be uncomfortable with Aziraphale witnessing him at his most vulnerable, not to mention cuddling with him. Crowley was completely motionless, his lips pressed into a thin line and looking to the side to avoid eye contact. Aziraphale so badly wanted to see his eyes, to make sure that their friendship would still be intact after this. 

It would kill him if he had irreparably ruined their relationship with this. 

“Please, dear,” Aziraphale released his shoulders, reaching up to slip off Crowley’s sunglasses in hopes of actually talking this through. 

Crowley stumbled away from him, tears glistening in his yellow eyes. Aziriphale’s words caught in his throat. Those eyes weren't filled with anger... 

“Y-you _can’t_ do thisss to me!” Crowley pleaded. Aziraphale stood frozen in place. Crowley looked like a cornered wild animal, eyes frantically darting around but never meeting his gaze. Aziraphale yearned to reach out to him, to pull Crowley into his arms until the demon stopped trembling so badly. 

“Dear, “ Aziraphale said, trying to force down the desperation in his voice. Before he could move towards the distraught demon, Crowley _hissed._ Aziraphale’s eyes widened. 

Crowley took another step backward. “Sssorry,” he muttered, and a tear slipped down his flushed cheek. Aziraphale was at a loss for words, bits and pieces of memories from over 6,000 years of friendship slipping together like a puzzle to reveal a beautiful picture- one he feared he had just shattered. 

“Oh, Crowley,” he said softly, realization dawning on his face. Crowleys shoulder’s dropped, his eyes brimming with more tears.

Crowley took a few more shaky steps backward, then turned on his heel and ran towards the bookshop’s door. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale called after him, hurrying out into the chilly street to try and stop him before this situation got even more out of hand. _Idiot. Absolute idiot!_ He kept scolding himself, frantically scanning the street for any sign of his demon. 

He stood dumbly in the street, heart pounding loudly in his ears as he recalled all the terrible things he had just said to his poor Crowley. 

_Idiot._

**Author's Note:**

> tfw the love of your life assures you they would never really want to hold you, and the only reason they would even consider it was because you were kinda dying :,(
> 
> Poor Crowley, we're gonna see his heartbroken POV next chapter. Watch out for next Sundays update!


End file.
